


smoke and cracks in the wall

by ludgerkresnik



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Alcohol, Gen, M/M, could be a ship if you squint, i accidentally gave both of them what is probably depression, old men reliving the days of old, sorry - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-21
Updated: 2018-04-21
Packaged: 2019-04-25 16:17:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,215
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14382336
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ludgerkresnik/pseuds/ludgerkresnik
Summary: Bulgaria decides to visit Turkey.





	smoke and cracks in the wall

The smoke rises in the air and dissipates as quickly as it had appeared, and there’s a light cough from Sadık, who inhales too much and Konstantin lets out a snort as the other breaks into a hard coughing fit. It isn’t often they hang out, more often than not, he goes out of his way to avoid the other man. The fruity smell hangs in the air, and it’s created a relaxing atmosphere. Kosta can easily ignore the looming, heavy heat of the Turkish summer.

Sadık had intended to show him around the city, and take him to places most tourists don’t know about but are worth seeing, but when temperatures had skyrocketed, neither men were willing to leave his small apartment.

“It feels like just yesterday you were this teenager,” Sadık finally says, breaking the silence. There is an unspoken rule among the nations to never speak about certain things of the past, it’s better to acknowledge bitter feelings and move on. “You were ready for a fight, and now look at you.”

“Gotta grow up at some point, old man.” Kosta responds as he lays down, arms underneath his head. The house of Ottoman had been different than this little apartment with cracks in the wall. It had been large, with floor length windows and never ending hallways, there were bustling maids, and trinkets from the conquests the older man had been on. To think he had moved from something so grand, downsized and now lives in some apartment in Istanbul. To think, Konstantin had seen him as this large, untouchable being. He supposes that’s the difference between being a teenager and an adult, a change of maturity.

There are things he does hold against Sadık, a bitter feeling they all feel in that general area. In their lives, there is no such thing as white and black morality, there is no such thing as good or evil that humans try to place on all of them. It’s all gray and black, it’s all anger and fear, a fight to survive in a world where there’s no guarantee. He no longer hates Sadık, like he had ages ago but he doesn’t see him as a friend. How do you move on from crimes committed against you, against everything you represent? He knows Sadık knows about these feelings.

After everything, after all the wars and the turn of the 21st century, Sadık announced he was taking a break from nationhood and disappeared somewhere. A lot of them did that, now that Konstantin thinks about it. They all just wanted peace and quiet, the chaos of everything that had been happening and with the world so changing, a lot of them seized the chance to disappear. Most people in their governments aren’t even aware of their existence.

And now, as they sit together, in a small apartment, and the sound of people from the outside filling in the otherwise silent place, Konstantin realizes just how tired Sadık feels. It shows on his face, beneath facial hair. The dark lines under his eyes, the obvious failing health despite how he tries to act as young and spry as he had been ages ago to try to keep up with some of them. Konstantin can relate to how old he feels.

“Man, things have changed.” He tries to break the silence, a desperate attempt to connect with the old man across from him. Konstantin tries to pretend he didn’t just relate to him. “Remember how Mihai was brought to us, and for a week straight, terrorized everyone by setting small fires everywhere?”

Sadık lets out a laugh, and takes a whiff from the hookah. He blows out a puff of smoke, and the smell of something fruity lingers in the air. “Yeah. You, Tatjana, Heracles, Vuk and Mihai were the worst kids I have ever met.”

“I wasn’t a kid!” Konstantin tries not to feel so insulted. By human standards, he would have been at least seventeen. “But I’m glad we made your life a living hell as often as possible.” Sadık wrinkles his nose, and he knows the man disagrees with him. “It was deserved!”

“You also terrorized the humans.”

“Listen, I don’t remember what any of them did, but I’m sure they had it coming!”

Sadık rolled his eyes. “No, I don’t think they did.” It feels like the same conversation they had ages ago, when one of them did get in trouble for something. Sadık doesn’t see Konstantin as the same teenager that was under his rule so many years ago, but now, a young man who holds onto the same ghosts they all cling to.

“Do you miss it?” Kosta asks. He’s not even looking at Sadık, he’s just staring at the ceiling. “Being great. I know I miss it sometimes, when everyone knew my name and trembled in fear at the thought of the Bulgarian Empire coming for them.”

“I doubt anyone feared you. You’re like a puppy that’s barking and growling and trying to sound vicious, but the bite is so weak.”

“Shut up. Just answer my question.”

“No,” Sadık answers, after a long silence. “The fighting was exhausting, and I like being anonymous now. At the time, having money, having fame, that was nice. But nowadays, I like how it is.” He doesn’t like living alone. He misses having people around he could talk to at any given moment. When one of them visits, for at least a small vacation, Sadık is always happy to house them, and is always happy to show them around his country.

The silence lingers on afterwards, and finally, Sadık forces himself up. He can feel the cracks in his back, the ache in his bones. “What do you want for dinner?” He asks as he heads towards the kitchen.

“I don’t know,” Konstantin says as he sits up, and stretches. “You pick.” He watches as Sadık opens up the fridge and pulls out a clear bottle of raki and grabs a few glasses. “You know, at one point, you never allowed us to have a drink of that.”

“Like hell I would let brats like you get drunk.” Sadık says. “You would have caused even more problems.”

“Confession, it was me, Enis and Vuk who stole the alcohol that one time.”

“…The hell did you do with it?”

“We drank half of it, and then, I think we spiked the Sultan’s drink with it or something. It’s all very hazy.” Sadık rolls his eyes, and returns next to Kosta and hands him one of the glasses.

Sadık sits on the couch, and Kosta joins him, and he turns on the television, and they let it drone on while they sip at their drinks. They talk longer, recounting and reliving different things from their pasts, laughter breaking up their conversation at things that had seemed so big at the time. It’s these times when the ghosts, and the feeling of being ancient, disappears and settles down. They leave them alone, and they finally resign themselves to getting something to eat when hunger gnaws at their stomachs and they’re well on their way to drunkeness.

It well into the night when they resign themselves to bed, and Sadık sleeps better than he has in months.


End file.
